


In Moments Like This

by ang_gray_smol



Category: Arc of a Scythe Series - Neal Shusterman
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Hair Braiding, Spoilers, heavy emphasis on the spoilers tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-06 11:35:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14056134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang_gray_smol/pseuds/ang_gray_smol
Summary: "Marie.""Hmm?" Scythe Curie looked up, the ends of her greying hair wiping against the front of Scythe Faraday's robes in a totally unintentional manner.Scythe Faraday smiled. "Over here, please."





	In Moments Like This

**Author's Note:**

> this is an excellent series, there are only two books so far so please read it when you can!!!
> 
>  
> 
> ~~scythe faraday is Daddy Material™ jus sayin~~

* * *

The first time Faraday met Marie, then a young lady who went by the name Susan, her brown hair was short, only curling in around her jawline. It absolutely bounced around whenever she walked, and did so too when he extended apprenticeship towards her, and she bobbed her head in agreement.

Then, somehow the thought of having it cut slipped from her entirely. In the weeks, then months when she trained under Scythe Faraday, she let it grow. First to her shoulders, then past it, then past her shoulder blades, then down to her waist. Faraday didn't mind really. As long as Susan was able to keep it under control, as well as not let it interfere during Bokator sparring sessions, then he'll let her do whatever she wants with her hair.

(Faraday also noted absently that the night Susan crept into his room, under the pretence of retrieving his empty glass, her hair, usually in tight buns or braids, cascaded loosely down her back, a curtain of brown that excelled in hiding her face from absolute embarrassment and infatuation.)

When the young lady Susan was ordained as Honorable Scythe Marie Curie, she cut her hair back to jawline length. It was a kind of symbolic catharsis, the rebirth of a new character.

And of course, Scythe Curie forgot about having it cut again.

.

.

.

"It's long again," Scythe Faraday mumbled, watching Scythe Curie saunter around his living room, looking for a comfy spot to read the book she borrowed from his personal library — a thick, hardbound volume on the history of the world in the Age of Mortality. He sat at the dining table, chin propped up on one elbow.

"What is?" Scythe Curie asked. She settled on the end of the brown sofa, and propped the book on her lap.

Scythe Faraday walked over to the sofa, mildly amused. Did turning the corner mean regaining a bit of youthful playfulness? How cute.

He took a seat a few inches from her, his fingers a touch away from the ends of Scythe Curie's hair.

"Marie."

"Hmm?" Scythe Curie looked up, the ends of her greying hair wiping against the front of Scythe Faraday's robes in a totally unintentional manner. Her face was blank, almost serious if not for the fact that her eyes were twinkling and her cheeks were pink. She knew how to school her features well, but she couldn't absolutely help the biological reactions that came with being excited.

Scythe Faraday smiled. "Over here, please."

Still playing clueless, Scythe Curie scooted over, attempting to focus on her book.

"Your back to me."

Scythe Curie turned around, and clamped down a girlish giggle.

"Now, stay still. You can keep reading, but if you move too much..."

The drop at the end of his sentence was intentional, a kind of lovers' threat promising more than just simple hair touching.

"All right," Scythe Curie said, resigning herself to Scythe Faraday's gentle ministrations.

Quietly, Scythe Faraday interweaved locks of hair, over, under, over under, as Scythe Curie continued to flip the pages of her book, a steady sound in the midst of the silence.

"See here, Michael." Scythe Curie pointed to a paragraph. "The book illustrates a bit on the sword making process of this one particular PanAsian country." She sounded like a young girl showing her parents a interesting bug that she caught out in the backyard. Scythe Faraday hummed in acknowledgement, and continued his work.

"And here, here, another PanAsian country managed to oust its dictator leader without an armed revolution!" Now Scythe Faraday was genuinely curious. His braiding slowed, but picked up again, as though an afterthought. "That's quite ironic."

"But they did it! How interesting people were back in the Age of Mortality," Scythe Curie said dreamily. "They kept on fighting for so many things – equality, justice, peace – and it's that fighting that made their lives worth...living... It's what made their numbered days count."

Scythe Faraday hummed again. "The world achieved the things the Mortal Age so desired, but at what cost?"

He coiled the braid in a bun, and fastened it securely. "There."

Scythe Curie tentatively felt her hair, careful that she might accidentally undo the work. Once she was satisfied with what she felt, she leaned back against Scythe Faraday's chest, the book closed on her lap. She sighed.

"You're warm."

Scythe Faraday chuckled. "Of course I am. I'm alive."

"And because you're alive, you take the lives of others."

"Maybe that's why the Scythedom was established." Scythe Faraday rested his chin on the top of Scythe Curie's head. "So that people can make their lives worth living again, when humanity has conquered and accomplished everything that can be accomplished."

"Hm, quite."

They were silent again, until Scythe Faraday relinquished his hold on Scythe Curie.

"Now, now. I have a quota to manage."

Scythe Curie pouted at the absence of warmth, but stood up from the sofa, leaving the book behind.

**Author's Note:**

> find me
> 
> tumblr: almightytrashcan.tumblr.com  
> twitter: @stabby_sisiw


End file.
